


To Haunt You

by evilmaniclaugh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Ficlets, M/M, season two spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/pseuds/evilmaniclaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets about Athos' past relationship with Rochefort, and his present one with Porthos. Spoilers up to 2.1 so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not particularly fond of the upcoming story arcs, so I'm making things up in my head.

Since being stuck with Rochefort as a travelling companion, Athos had been quiet. Too quiet for Porthos’ liking. The only time he’d smiled properly was after landing a fierce blow to Rochefort's jaw: an uncharacteristic move that pleased him more than it should have done. Violence was something Athos usually dispensed with careful consideration. 

With the others asleep and the fire burning down to embers, Porthos left the boundaries of the camp to relieve himself, and then returned, picking up his bed roll and moving to lie next to Athos.

“Something’s bothering you,” he said.

“Nothing to concern yourself over.” The corner of Athos’ mouth twitched upwards, but it could hardly be described as a smile.

“I enjoy concerning myself over you,” said Porthos in an undertone. “You _know_ how much pleasure it gives me.”

It was clear that Athos was torn. Common sense and emotion at war with one another, he looked around him at his sleeping companions and then reached out to hold Porthos’ hand. “I wish, with all my heart, we were back in Paris,” he murmured. “Then I would show you how much I enjoy every part of you.”

“I'd rather we were alone here,” said Porthos, looking up at the stars, happier now that they were in close contact. “It’s beautiful.”

Rolling onto his side, Athos leaned in and kissed Porthos hard and swift. “Be careful of Rochefort,” he said suddenly. “He will do his utmost to cause trouble.” He paused. “He is a danger to us.”

“To us, or to everyone?” asked Porthos.

“Just be wary.”

“As wary as we're being at the moment?” Porthos laughed softly. Somehow they'd ended up with their fingers locked together and their free arms wrapped around one another. There was no other word for it but cuddling. Inching away with reluctance, they remained as close as possible without it being compromising in any way.

“This’ll do for now,” said Porthos in a gruff voice. “But know what I’ll be doing to you in my dreams.”

“I’ll join you there,” smiled Athos, and if Porthos hadn't noticed a worried glance in Rochefort’s direction, his mind would be at rest.

 

\---end


	2. Courtly Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos is disturbed by Rochefort.

Athos watched the last glow of the embers die away, wondering what he should do for the best. He'd encountered Rochefort several times since being a Musketeer, but had always kept his distance. This time, however, they'd been in close contact, and it was uncomfortable to say the least, yet he hadn't been certain whether Rochefort had recognised him until the moment the Comte had stolen his horse. That was proprietary and reeked of ownership.

Punching him had been enjoyable, and the glimmer of confusion in Rochefort's blue eyes had been more of a payback than the fist to his jaw: more than his companions would ever know. Of the three, only Porthos had noticed that something was not right. 

Wanting to bridge that short distance between them, Athos made do with a loving look. Porthos had been the saving of him -- had shown him that he still possessed a heart and then promptly took ownership of it. He would kill to protect him and would do so without remorse.

Sleep was a battle that had been lost for the night, there was too much on Athos' mind, and abandoning his bed roll, he moved to the edge of their camp to keep watch. With no obvious threat at large, they'd not assigned anyone to the duty, thinking it better for everyone to be rested, but as he was awake then it made sense to guard their small party.

"A Musketeer's job is never done," said a distinctive voice.

Athos refused to look around. He had every intention of keeping Rochefort at arms' length.

"When are we going to stop playing this game?"

Still Athos did not look, but his stomach leapt into his throat. This was more terrifying to him than the most dangerous of missions. He would rather fight a brigade of Spaniards singlehanded.

"Olivier, Vicomte de la Fère," murmured Rochefort.

"Technically, I'm the Comte de la Fère, as my father died several years ago," said Athos in a bored drawl. "I _had_ hoped we'd be spared this nonsense."

"Liar. You hoped I wouldn't recognise you." Rochefort laughed. "And yet I've known who were all along. I've just been biding my time." He circled the tree Athos was leaning against. "Pretty little Olivier, with those big, scared eyes. You haven't changed at all."

"I've changed in every way possible," said Athos coldly.

"A tragedy of a marriage cannot do as much damage as you lead everyone to believe. Did you enjoy bedding Milady as much as you enjoyed me?"

"Stop this," hissed Athos, unable to hide his discomfort.

"I gained a lot more pleasure from teaching you courtly manners than I did our dear queen." Rochefort laughed. "Though I confess that both of you ended up on your backs with your legs spread wide for me. You were so eager. Are you still as greedy for cock?"

Athos' heart was thumping with fear. Had the man's eyes drifted in Porthos direction, or was he merely paranoid and imagining things? He should end this now. Draw his dagger and slice that throat from ear to ear.

"I'm aware of your intentions," said Rochefort with a lazy smile. "If you wish it then we will duel and I will beat you the way I always did in the past."

Athos succumbed to the memories. Their sparring sessions had invariably ended up with him on his knees, his breeches pulled down and Rochefort's hand on his cock as he entered him.

"I was a callow and impressionable youth back then," said Athos. "I am no longer that."

Rochefort stepped forward a pace. "Do you recall our tutoring sessions? The way you'd shiver with excitement when I leant over your shoulder to help you with your Latin declensions."

He was barely six inches away now. His breath was tinged with wine and Athos could still remember the flavour of their first kiss.

"It was when we were dancing," said Rochefort, as if he were reading his mind. "That was when I first knew how much you wanted me. You trembled in my arms, pulling back and trying to disguise a cock that was stiff in your breeches." The gap between them lessened incrementally. "You didn't know it, but I was hard for you too, and when we kissed-"

"Don't," interrupted Athos, leaning back and closing his eyes. "We are changed men."

"We're both older now," said Rochefort, stroking a finger over Athos' cheekbone. "You are taller; I am wiser and we are both of us killers." His thumb ghosted over the line of Athos' lips. "But not altogether changed I think, Olivier."

He stepped back and Athos was able to breathe again. "Once this mission is over then we'll have no more to do with one another."

"If we both survive it," said Rochefort. "And I'm beginning to hope we do, mon petit."

Flummoxed by the familiar endearment, Athos remained silent.

"I'll leave you to your duty with a word of advice," said Rochefort. "A good watchman always keeps his eyes open."

Athos opened his to find Rochefort leaning in as he were about to steal a kiss. Instead, the man remained poised for a moment and then withdrew back to camp, letting loose a quiet chuckle of victory.

 

\---end


End file.
